


Smoke and Ghosts.

by RedStarFiction



Category: Outlander & Related Fandoms, Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-05
Updated: 2015-11-05
Packaged: 2018-04-30 04:40:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5150591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedStarFiction/pseuds/RedStarFiction
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set around A Breath of Snow and Ashes time period.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Smoke and Ghosts.

Ian grinned at his uncle through the thin veil of smoke.  
“Weel? What do ye think?”  
Jamie drew cautiously on the pipe again, he had puffed on it a few times already but Ian insisted he needed to hold it inside himself longer, so he dutifully held the smoke in his lungs for as long as he could before being over-come by a coughing fit.  
“I dinna ken what ye enjoy about it.”  
Jamie gasped when he was able to speak again, handing the little clay pipe back to Ian.  
“My chest feels like its aflame.”  
“Like ye hair?”  
Ian asked and dissolved into helpless giggles. Jamie felt his own lip twitching and then he was laughing too and had no idea why.  
The fire in front of them crackled and Ian leant forward to prod some more leaves into it.  
“What’s so funny?”  
Roger had approached out of the darkness and neither Scotsman had noticed which alarmed all three of them. Roger recovered first and sniffed the air. Over the scent of wood smoke, a sweet tang was quite apparent.  
“Are ye smokin’ marijuana?”  
Roger asked, eyes wide with shock.  
“I dinna ken.”  
Jamie said and burst into snorting, puffs of laughter again.  
Roger smirked and sat down beside Ian, accepting the pipe and drawing deeply.  
He held his breath for longer than he needed to and felt himself grow slightly light headed. Pushing the smoke out through his lips he managed a rather impressive smoke ring and was gratified to see his father-in-laws jaw drop open in amazement.  
“Roger Mac! How did ye … wait … Claire … Claire needs to see that…”  
Jamie scrabbled to his feet and hurried inside to fetch her. Ian nudged Roger in the ribs with his elbow  
“Familiar wi’ the herb are ye?”  
“Och aye, in my wilder youth.”  
Roger smiled and Ian gave him a queer look  
“What’s wild about it?”  
Roger opened his mouth and closed it again. He didn’t know how to answer.  
“Bloody hell Jamie … Don’t eat the entire thing!…”  
Claire stomped over to the men glancing back at her husband who was plucking at a loaf of bread tucked under his arm, a jar of honey in one hand, fumbling the lid.  
“Right, what is so incredible?”  
She huffed and Roger obligingly blew a smoke ring for her.  
Claire narrowed her eyes at him before switching her glare to Ian.  
“You’ve been swapping rabbit pelts for reefer again haven’t you?”  
Ian sniggered and nodded  
“Aye auntie. The Mohawk believe it is a way to …”  
“Spare me!”  
Claire rolled her eyes, she had heard Ian explain why he enjoyed it so much many times and in principle she saw no issue with it but the effect it had on her pantry was another matter.  
Jamie had finally got the lid off of the honey and was dunking chunks of bread into it. Ian’s eyes lit on the food and Claire noticed Roger eyeing it up too.  
“Don’t even think about it!”  
She scolded and levelled a finger at all three men in turn, addressing them in her best matron tone that brooked no argument.  
“I will bring out the food you can have, none of you are to go raiding my kitchen for anything else!”  
Jamie grinned and swallowing a mouthful of stolen bread and honey he ducked to kiss her.  
“My feisty wee Sassenach, I dinna mind goin’ hungry if ye’ll satisfy other needs…”  
Ian snorted loudly and Jamie jerked in surprise, he had rather forgotten where he was. Claire squeezed his arm and gave him a look that promised nothing but hinted at everything, increasing the blush that crept up his neck, scorching his ears.  
“Sit,”  
She commanded  
“I’ll bring you something out.”  
She plucked the jar of honey from his fingers, deftly re-lidding it. Turning her whiskey eyes to Roger she raised an eyebrow roguishly.  
“I expected better of you Roger.”  
He grinned at her and then tried to rearrange his face into a more dour expression. Claire understood his need to fit in. Jamie and Ian were never unkind to Roger, but she knew he would have stumbled upon them by chance not invite and lumping him in with her faux-disappointment bound him to them a little tighter.  
“Och let him be Auntie.”  
Ian groaned and Claire felt a small thrill at her cunning. Reading people was much more Jamie’s talent than hers.  
By the time she had collected enough food to keep them happy, the pipe was gone and a bottle of whiskey had appeared from somewhere, though she had heard no one enter the house, which suggested it was probably Ian.  
Jamie was quiet, unused to the effects of the smoke and more interested in the food she had brought out than the drink being passed round, so she settled herself beside him and took a dram in his stead.  
“My beautiful lass… God only kens what I did to deserve such a woman but I’m glad I did it…”  
He murmured and pressed his forehead lightly into her hair. Claire absently stroked his cheek and smiled to herself.  
Jamie’s voice was slightly slurred but the deep rumble never failed to sooth her, no matter its state. His hand rested on her thigh and she slid her own hand beneath it, inspecting the scars. She still felt rage swell in her heart at the memory of his hand before and after Randall had damaged it. The once smooth skin and nimble fingers had been ruined forever and it hadn’t just been his hand either. Jamie had never been the same. He had come away from the trauma as a different man, more guarded and with a determination to protect them both that was even fiercer than it had been before. He understood what men were capable of and also what love was capable of and had never taken either for granted.  
Claire could not count the ways in which they had saved each other over the years, she had given as much as she could to her husband and he had shielded her from all the things he was able to, never hesitating to risk sacrificing himself for her.  
Watching Roger speak with Ian about the merits of bow hunting vs gun hunting, Claire felt a certain kinship with her son-in-law. Bree was Jamie’s daughter and at least half-belonged here by rights but she and Roger … they had no blood lineage to this time, this place. They were born to a world of radios, cars and electric lighting and drawn here by love and for Claire it had been enough, Jamie had been enough, but she did wonder about Roger.  
*Too much like me?*  
Frank's voice nudged her and she scowled to herself  
*That's not what I was thinking, Frank!*  
*Well you want our daughter to be protected by a warrior, not a historian. How is that for history repeating itself?*  
The voice in her head was mocking but not completely unkind and it brought back memories of so many arguments.  
*It's not that.*  
Claire thought stubbornly and in truth it was not just about that. It was about Roger as a person too.  
The expectations put upon him were so very different to those on her. She had been expected to be a dutiful, obedient wife and provide children – she had managed two of those things reasonably well. But he was expected to provide a home, bring in money, protect the family and all were things that in the twentieth century Roger could have done brilliantly and could feel fulfilled, but here? Did he want the role Jamie had? Could he do what Jamie had done if he had to do it …  
She must have made a noise of distress for two bloodshot blue eyes appeared in front of her own and the large, calloused palm rose to cup her cheek, chasing away the last traces of Frank.  
“What’s amiss Sassenach?”  
“Worrying about things I can’t help and arguing with ghosts.”  
She smiled guiltily and Jamie grunted, easing himself into standing position  
“Dinna fash Sassenach, whatever it is, I’ll fix it for ye and ghosts will always argue, it's their way ken?”  
“I know.”  
She smiled in answer and took the hand he offered her. She glanced at Roger again and then pushed it from her mind. He had a good role model in Jamie and another in Ian, that would have to be enough.  
“Christ, I feel like I could eat a bear and fit some bannocks around the edges.”  
Jamie yawned suddenly.  
“Yes, it does rather have that effect.”  
Claire said dryly and after taking one more sip of whiskey, and declaring the mini-party over, she dragged her drugged husband towards his bed, away from smoke and ghosts, placing herself bodily between him and the pantry on their way past to protect their breakfast.


End file.
